


Afterthought

by ba_lailah



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: F/M, Mutual Pining, Piiiiiiiining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-15
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:27:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23152462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ba_lailah/pseuds/ba_lailah
Summary: So many people had raised toasts to the newlyweds. His new father-in-law, genial as ever, too well-mannered to show any discomfort he might feel over his daughter's choice of husband. Schuyler friend after Schuyler friend, blurring together, indistinguishable in their wealth and pomposity. Laurens, telling wicked jokes just barely suitable for the fine company. Angelica, luminous and intense, her gaze burning and her bitterness visible only to him as she wished him satisfaction with the woman they both loved.Finally, they had all finished their speeches. Alexander stood, swaying only slightly from the many sips of smuggled French wine, and raised his glass.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Angelica Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler
Comments: 4
Kudos: 36
Collections: It's All in the Name (Take #1)





	Afterthought

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Enisy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enisy/gifts).



So many people had raised toasts to the newlyweds. His new father-in-law, genial as ever, too well-mannered to show any discomfort he might feel over his daughter's choice of husband. Schuyler friend after Schuyler friend, blurring together, indistinguishable in their wealth and pomposity. Laurens, telling wicked jokes just barely suitable for the fine company. Angelica, luminous and intense, her gaze burning and her bitterness visible only to him as she wished him satisfaction with the woman they both loved. 

Finally, they had all finished their speeches. Alexander stood, swaying only slightly from the many sips of smuggled French wine, and raised his glass.

"My friends," he said, as though more than a handful of people in the crowded room were his friends. "Thank you all, so much. Mrs. Hamilton and I—" It was the first time he'd said it aloud, and the words felt so good in his mouth. He smiled down at Eliza, who glowed back at him. "—are profoundly grateful that you've come to celebrate our joy in the midst of war."

He paused, surveying the room. Amid the glitter, five faces stood out to him as though spotlit. Laurens looked proud enough to burst and ready to fight anyone who dared to challenge Hamilton's claim to Eliza's hand. Mulligan's grin said he was only picturing the wedding night. Lafayette was surprisingly contemplative, half-hidden behind his wine glass, perhaps missing his lady wife—he spoke of her rarely but with deep adoration. Burr stood off to the side, masked by his usual pleasant smile that didn't reach his eyes. And Angelica...

He couldn't look at Angelica. He was too tipsy, too giddy. There was no good night to speak your sister-in-law's name when you meant to speak your wife's, but at your wedding would surely be the worst night of all. He fixed his gaze on Philip Schuyler instead.

"I hope you will forgive any omissions," he began, "for I have, most uncharacteristically, neglected to write my own address in advance—or perhaps that is to the best, for I'm so accustomed to writing for General Washington that I might inadvertently lead you all into battle."

"Or ask us for money!" cried one of Schuyler's fellow Congressmen, who drew more laughs than Hamilton had. _They'll never let me forget I'm not one of them,_ Hamilton thought. He revised his approach accordingly.

"I can only be humble tonight," he said, "for so many kind and gracious souls have paved the way to this joyous occasion. General Schuyler, Mrs. Schuyler, I will always truly be in your debt for permitting me to court and wed your daughter and welcoming me into your family, and most especially for hosting us this evening." His in-laws nodded to him, smiling. "Mon ami le Marquis de Lafayette, whom we all must thank for this truly excellent wine—" There was a smattering of applause, and Lafayette smirked in a way that suggested he'd successfully passed off a slightly inferior vintage as France's finest. "General Washington is not here, but I would be remiss if I failed to thank him, even in absentia, for granting me a generous leave from my military service and permitting Lieutenant Colonel Laurens leave as well so he could attend me this evening. Laurens..." Words failed Hamilton for a moment. "You have stood by me so many times, and kept me alive long enough to wed, no small feat—"

"For which you surely have _my_ thanks," Eliza called out. "Though I may retract them should you fail to uphold that duty henceforth." There was more laughter.

"Mrs. Hamilton!" Laurens cried. "Surely you cannot hold me solely responsible for countering your husband's penchant for putting himself in the path of bullets."

"I can and shall, Colonel," Eliza retorted. "For I already know well I've no hope of convincing him to do otherwise."

Hamilton felt things were getting away from him a bit. 

He raised his voice over the merriment. "And most of all, I must thank my lovely wife."

The guests obligingly quieted—they wouldn't defer to him, but a Schuyler deserved respect, even one who had taken such a lusterless name as Hamilton.

"Madam," he said, taking Eliza's gloved hand and feeling true humility move him, as it so rarely did. "I will devote my life to finding the finest and most perfect ways to praise you, so I pray you will forgive me for my lapses now. Your shining beauty, your unparalleled kindness and grace, your merry disposition, have profoundly affected me. I feel at times as though one of God's angels has condescended to share a small slice of eternity in my poor company. I swear I will make every endeavor to be worthy of your esteem. I cannot apologize for my devotion to the Revolutionary cause—not least for that I know you share it—but I am now doubly eager to evict every last Redcoat from our nation so that I may return home to you and raise a family in peace and safety. Thank you for making me truly the most happy man in America, as you have done since the day we met."

Even as the guests applauded and he raised his wife's hand to his lips, a pang struck him. _Since the day we met..._

He had not thanked Angelica, who deserved thanks most of all for first placing Eliza's hand in his—and for standing back and leaving them to conduct their romance, relinquishing him for reasons he still did not fully understand.

He glimpsed her over Eliza's shoulder. Her eyes burned into him. He could not bear her gaze, and returned his own to where it should be: meeting the eyes of his adoring wife, who was blinking back tears of joy. Had he been eloquent? He must have been. He had already forgotten whatever it was he'd said.

At last Hamilton released Eliza's hand, drank his wine, and took his seat. When he glanced again toward Angelica, she was no longer there.

It was right that his wife was first in his mind, first and last, especially at his wedding. It was proper that his wife's sister was an afterthought. Telling the assembled guests that Angelica had introduced him to Eliza might lead to unwanted questions and gossip. Some things were best kept private. Surely Angelica would understand.

He wondered whether she'd ever forgive him.


End file.
